


We fall (in love) off the edge of the world

by gyunikum



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: M/M, or cyberpunk, or matrix, slight sci-fi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyunikum/pseuds/gyunikum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanghyuk and Wonshik seek the edge of the world.</p><p>Sanghyuk calls it a pilgrimage. Wonshik just wants to fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We fall (in love) off the edge of the world

**Author's Note:**

> In the moment of surfacing from my dreams, I saw a flash of a [photo](https://66.media.tumblr.com/29cef048adf4fb5de4ec05148155a259/tumblr_oaknp9EU1H1vtyd1mo1_500.jpg) I would find later that day, and heard the beat of a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bnAVcOb6th8) I'd listened to a lot.

 

The blurred yellow streaks in the middle of the road are eaten away by the jeep, consumed insatiably, and the blackness of the asphalt illuminated in the vehicle’s headlights is impeccable as if it was laid down just a day before. The road’s edges are bracketed by two constant lines of white running at the same speed as the car, and beyond them, the dark green pine forest swallows the remaining scatter of light in a misty haze of shadows.

Wonshik drives the car in the middle, no reason to keep to the side of the road— no one will ever come from where he’s headed to, no headlights popping up over the top of a hill coming his way.

He turns up the heating by one level, fingers around the steering wheel and resting on the gearshift growing cold, and his breath fogging his sight the more kilometers the odometer displays on the dashboard. The temperature above the small digital clock on the radio keeps dropping.

There’s only static coming from the speakers, something Wonshik hasn’t noticed for quite a long time until the monotony of the drive is broken by a spike of something in his chest, a flare of pain like a needle burrowing deep into his lungs and heart—

He steps on the breaks, the tires screeching loudly, and Wonshik stares at the figure standing in the middle of the road, bathed in the light of the car’s lamps.

The stranger lifts his head, and locks his gaze with Wonshik’s through the windshield— boyish features contrasted by broad shoulders and muscular arms, torso, all visible in the thin shirt the boy is wearing.

Wonshik contemplates whether he should get out or continue to drive, but his curiosity gets the better of him, while the thought of leaving the boy here squeezes his chest painfully.

He opens the door tentatively, not taking his eyes off the boy, the static of the radio playing in his head to fill up the silence, though his ears are ringing.

They stare at each other, and the nightfall around them is mute, as if even nature was holding its breath back at the meeting.

“Are you lost?” Wonshik breaks the silence, cringing at how hoarse his voice sounds. He hasn’t had to use his chords for days, even though he sang along to the songs while they lasted in the radio, cassette player not working— it was an old jeep with old accessories, and Wonshik’s phone has run out of juice days ago, cigarette lighter broken before Wonshik had even rented the car.

“No,” the boy shakes his head. “I just found myself.”

 

Wonshik blinks at the boy in confusion— he didn’t think anyone else would be crazy enough to follow along the route, but then again, no one else had the same information that Wonshik had. There was a reason why people kept to the City, mainly because they were forbidden to leave, and even Wonshik needed help escaping.

Those who live outside the City concentrate into small Outposts, spread thin across the lands, growing even scarcer the farther the City gets.

“What are you doing here in the middle of nowhere? The last Outpost was sectors away,” Wonshik says, holding onto the car’s open door, with one leg still in the interior as he looks at the stranger.

“I was told to come here. Tonight. This exact spot… So I came.”

“Told by— who?” Wonshik asks. He plays on the roof of the car with his fingers nervously, he wants to feel anxious at the sheer unlikeness of such a situation— meeting a random human so far from the City, without a car, and clothes way too thin for the night’s chilling grasp— but for some reason, Wonshik can’t.

There’s no toxicity in his chest, no fear in his stomach— its exact opposite though, creeps up his arms and sparks in the tip of his fingers, a sense of comfort washing over him pleasantly.

The boy looks at the sky, a slight smile playing on his lips, and Wonshik follows his gaze.

“The strange lights whispered to me,” he says, and the streaks of light on the night sky dance in his bright eyes, and— Wonshik’s breath is taken. The boy then turns towards Wonshik, and if not for the car’s door offering him support, Wonshik would fall to his knees at the intensity and truth on the boy’s face.

“They talked to you too, right? That’s why you’re here— they told you to come, and you came,” the boy says softly, taking a step closer towards Wonshik, hand resting on the hood of the car.

“I’m—” Wonshik begins, but the boy is next to him behind the door, not threateningly too close.

“The people around you thought you were crazy, right?” the boy whispers with a nod, and Wonshik’s heart skips a beat. “They wanted to help you by bringing you in— because they were afraid of the City Eye, and of the lights, of the unknown.”

Wonshik keeps quiet, because that is what has happened in the City. His friends, family members and co-workers were worried for him, that Wonshik appreciated, but when some of them started to become more agitated, more pushing— Wonshik knew he had to escape. Either he was outside the City, or he would never see the light again if the City Eye caught him.

“I want to see the edge of the world,” _and fall off into what awaits me,_ he adds in his head, and though no word leaves his lips, the boy looks at him knowingly.

It’s a comforting touch, the thought that Wonshik is not alone.

“Then we should go,” the boy suggests, wrapping his strong arms around his thick torso— his lower arms are coated in goose bumps, and Wonshik shivers at the thought, he doesn’t know how the boy managed not to freeze to death in the chilly weather.

His lips though, purple, quiver with silent words, until Wonshik turns his head towards the other side of the car.

Once inside the still somewhat warm cabin of the vehicle, the boy greets Wonshik with a touch to his neck, and as much as Wonshik wants to pull away with a startle, he steels himself, and instead, leans into the open palm, nuzzling it, a satisfying warmth seeping into his chest.

“You were so alone all this time,” the boy breathes, thumb stroking Wonshik’s cheek— an involuntarily tear slips out of Wonshik’s eyes. “So, _so_ alone, and you’re in pieces,” he continues just as softly, and Wonshik nods silently, unable to produce words.

Wonshik cages the boy’s wrist with his fingers, not wanting the touch to leave him, warmth spreading across his whole body.

He doesn’t understand what’s going on, or what this boy is doing here, but Wonshik knows that he was supposed to meet him here— he’s right, the lights have told him, the lights in the sky and in the ceiling of his dark apartment, dancing for Wonshik on lonely nights and whispering to him—

_Leave. Leave the City. Your place is not here._

They said not in words or sounds, but in feelings, as they wrapped their tendrils around Wonshik’s desperation, and squeezed, squeezed until Wonshik thought he was going insane, the trivial things that brought him pleasure not enough, _not enough_ anymore. It felt like his heart was being torn out of his ribcage, and this feeling didn’t ease until he was outside the City walls.

“You’re broken into tiny pieces, like everyone else in the City, but don’t worry,” the boy whispers, his breath fanning Wonshik’s ear as he leans close, and then backs away, grazing his hot lips across Wonshik’s cheekbone, scorching his skin, “Now I’m here to put you together, and fill in your cracks.”

Wonshik cries into the boy’s strong shoulder, tears cold as ice seeping into his frosty shirt, and their position is awkward, painful having to turn like that in their seats, but Wonshik has been so, so alone all his life that no lovers and people he believed were his soulmates could ease the feeling— they were temporary solutions to a problem that lay within Wonshik.

The boy, says his name is Sanghyuk, takes the driver’s seat after Wonshik’s tears dry out, and drives silently while Wonshik rests in the passenger seat, curled into a ball and head turned towards Sanghyuk, because the boy seems to radiate something that Wonshik’s being craves.

 

When the dancing lights on the sky give their place to the white orb that floods everything with light and the silhouette of blue-ish spheres far away from the planet, Wonshik wakes up, bleary eyes refusing to open as the engine’s low rumble tries to lull him back to sleep. His body is rigid, neck cramped and spine cracking painfully, but Wonshik doesn’t want to rest anymore.

A soft humming hits his ears before it sinks below the engine’s sound again.

“Sanghyuk?”

For a moment, Wonshik listens to the humming before it’s cut off abruptly.

“Good morning,” Sanghyuk greets him quietly, and Wonshik forces his eyes open when he feels a hand on his thigh.

Wonshik jerks completely awake when his brain processes what’s going on— it’s bright outside, and he’s not in the driver’s seat, like he’s been for the past days— weeks.

He’s been en route for _weeks._

“The solar panels,” Wonshik heaves out, clambering up into a proper sitting position. He takes a quick glance outside, eyes squinting at the change of scenery— gone are the dark, brooding pines and the lush grass at each side of the road, taken by naked spikes of tree trunks, all leaning towards into the direction from where they’re coming. The soil is greyish and yellow, arid, as if reaching into a desert.

“I put them onto the roof,” Sanghyuk reassures him with a gentle squeeze on his thigh. “And we still have half a battery. Do you want to stop?”

Wonshik keeps his eyes on Sanghyuk’s face for a few quiet moments, not staring, but just— looking. Thinking, examining the boy’s features. He looks a little bit tired.

“Yeah. I’ll take the wheel,” Wonshik nods. “You should get some sleep too.”

“Nah,” Sanghyuk shrugs, but slows the car down until they come to a stop. “I’m fine.”

“Are you hungry?” Wonshik asks. “I should have some stuff left in the back.”

“I’m starving,” Sanghyuk grins.

 

They have a measly breakfast of crackers and canned beans, their table the car’s hood while they wait for the solar panels to recharge the low batteries but not before Sanghyuk grabs Wonshik’s wrist and pulls him against his chest for a long embrace.

Sanghyuk nuzzles Wonshik’s face gently, his lips open slightly, and Wonshik turns his head to the side to seal their lips together in a timid kiss, not sure if he should be doing it or not, but when Sanghyuk reciprocates and opens his mouth wider to allow his tongue passage, Wonshik gives in completely, and lets himself go pliant in Sanghyuk’s hold.

They cling onto each other as if they were the other’s life jacket, the only thing to keep them afloat in the dryness of the air.

“I wish we met sooner,” Sanghyuk whispers after the kiss, and pecks Wonshik’s mouth, letting it go with a loud smack. “So much earlier.”

“Where have you been?” Wonshik asks, his voice thinning. His mind plays him scenarios and situations where and how he would meet Sanghyuk in the City, what they would do upon seeing each other— has Wonshik passed Sanghyuk in the crowd without even realizing or taking a glance?

“I lived same as everyone,” Sanghyuk shrugs, pulling away and leaning against the jeep’s front, elbows supporting his torso as he stares into the distance. “Bred in one of the Outposts, departed to the City at ten. The family that got me thought I was trouble, so they kicked me out as soon as they could, and I’ve been living on the streets since then.”

Wonshik keeps quiet, not knowing if speaking up would be inappropriate. Hearing Sanghyuk’s sad story makes him shiver and appreciate the things his family had done for him— supported him, loved him until their last breath.

“But— there’s no reason to pity me,” Sanghyuk says, and when he lifts Wonshik’s head, a finger under his chin, Wonshik notices that Sanghyuk is smiling, albeit not with happiness. “I know that everything that happened to me was to prepare me for our meeting. Wonshik, everything is connected.”

“Everything?” Wonshik echoes with a slight disbelief. He thinks hard about it, but as far into the past as he can remember, only the previous few months have affected him in a way that led to him leaving the City.

Before that, before he could see the lights, there was nothing, no desire in Wonshik’s chest eating away at him.

“You might not see the connection, but it’s there, and—” Sanghyuk cuts himself off, and instead reaches forward to cup Wonshik’s cheeks with a loving look on his face, the lights in his eyes fragile. “God, I’m so glad you heeded the call and came. I don’t think I’d be able to make this journey on my own. I need you.”

 

Sanghyuk calls it a pilgrimage.

The days spent driving between dead tree trunks, like the spikes of a hedgehog, always begin the same way— one of them rests while the other drives for most of the dark hours, and when the sky begins to turn bright blue, the white orb peeking over the peaks of the mountains in the very distance, the driver would wake the other up. They would stop for a piss break, and they would have a breakfast – Wonshik has packed the trunk full with essentials, way more than what one person needed for several weeks – and then depending on how exhausted the previous driver felt, they would talk, or he would take a short nap.

Wonshik doesn’t really voice his questions about the whole situation, or the place they are at, or their destination— there is no reason because Sanghyuk, as much as he seems like he knows everything, doesn’t know much more than Wonshik himself.

They drive, they rest, they talk, eat, stop, rinse and repeat, and in between the cracks, they would touch each other, kiss each other because it feels natural, and they get used to it in mere days, not able to go on without feeling the other anymore.

 

When the tree trunks disappear and the ashen soil gives way for arid ground and dried out bushes does Wonshik ask Sanghyuk.

“What’s beyond the mountains?”

They are sitting on top of the jeep, a late afternoon snack for their empty bellies, stale pretzels and soft drink without bubbles. The setting white orb has turned deep orange on the other side of the sky, just above the horizon to their east— it paints Sanghyuk’s face, and colors the lonely clouds above them.

“Our destination,” Sanghyuk mumbles around a pretzel. Wonshik stops, and stares at Sanghyuk.

“How do you know? Is the end of the world really behind those mountains?”

The mountains, tall and their caps white and sharp, their peaks lean into the same direction as the trees, and from afar, they look like a blooming flower, their petals opening outwards.

“Maybe,” Sanghyuk shrugs. “When we get there, we’ll know.”

 

Wonshik wants— something.

On one of the nights, when they’ve parked the car because the batteries have run out due to an overcast sky during daylight, he stares at the darkness above as he listens to Sanghyuk sleep soundly in the backseat.

The lights seep into the sky, for the first time since Wonshik has left the City, but they are quiet for now, and Wonshik doesn’t understand the pull in his chest. The lights dance above the car, white curtains moving in smooth waves, and the only thing Wonshik feels is the desire to feel Sanghyuk beneath his hands— his body, to have him all to himself before they reach the rapidly growing mountains.

 

Violet dawn finds them in the backseat, groaning, trying to crawl out of their skins as they claw at each other with a fire burning in their bellies— the fervent kisses do nothing to satiate their hunger— the hunger for each other, for human contact, for hope that not all is lost, that they’ve got each other.

“Let me fill you up,” Sanghyuk breathes into Wonshik’s lungs, his want sticking to Wonshik’s insides as he grinds his crotch against Wonshik’s stomach.

Wonshik chokes out a weak _yes_ , lips falling apart, and then he feels a finger slipping between his cheeks and the tip prodding around his entrance before pushing in— Wonshik lets out a gargled cry at the pain, because it’s been months since he’s had sex with anyone, let alone being the one to be fucked.

He welcomes it though, his stomach trembling with the intensity of an earthquake at the thought of Sanghyuk pushing in and thrusting, in and out, now with his fingers and then his cock, swollen, hot, and pulsating inside Wonshik once he’s stretched enough, and Sanghyuk falls on top of Wonshik pliantly, panting heavily into his chest as they take a breather for a moment.

Wonshik encourages Sanghyuk with a lopsided kiss slipping off his lips, and then Sanghyuk begins to move, slowly, the car following their movements with a creak.

The friction burns, but it’s no hotter than the yearning igniting sparks in his belly, and soon, Wonshik finds himself at the top of his orgasm, screaming Sanghyuk’s name, his come spreading on his stomach in spurts, almost gluing Sanghyuk to his torso as Sanghyuk rams into him erratically, chasing his own orgasm blindly.

Wonshik’s head keeps hitting the headrest of the seat, and he’s moaning loudly, louder than he’s ever let himself because there are no neighbors, only the desert as their witness, jeep parked in the middle of the road.

When Sanghyuk comes, his voice is guttural, snapping his hips against Wonshik’s ass, filling Wonshik to the brim, and as he slips out, Wonshik moans at the initial lack of being filled, his hole clenching as he pushes out Sanghyuk’s come.

“God,” Sanghyuk breathes, rubbing Wonshik’s sore entrance with a finger.

“I feel like I’m ready to welcome death now,” Wonshik exhales, still out of breath, “this was—”

Sanghyuk lets out a laugh. “Yeah,” he nods against Wonshik’s chest, kissing his skin. “But the edge of the world is not here,” he says, pressing a finger above Wonshik’s heart. “And you won’t find it within me either.”

“Then where is it?” Wonshik asks, sitting up as he gets rid of his pants. They could easily pounce around naked, as they’ve seen each other at their most vulnerable, at their rawest moments, no prying eyes reminding them to cover their bodies, but Wonshik finds himself feeling uncomfortable at the thought.

“It’s not an emotion,” Sanghyuk shakes his head, settling next to Wonshik, and they stare out the windshield towards the arid mountains, still in the distance, but a lot closer. “It’s a real place, and we’re getting close.”

“Is it really the end of the world?”

“It’s where all life has begun, and where life will end.”

 

It takes them days to reach the mountains, their supplies dwindling at an alarming rate—

There won’t be any left for the return trip, but Wonshik has never planned to go back.

He feels ready to face whatever is awaiting him at the end of the world, be it death or anything else. There’s no reason for him to return to the City, and Sanghyuk—

Sanghyuk keeps information to himself, and Wonshik is completely fine with it.

The jeep splutters and struggles to take the steep mountain road, even though it’s a serpent, a fully built asphalt road with railing and paintwork. As they climb higher and higher, it becomes harder to breathe, the growing lack of oxygen not suffocating but uncomfortable at the rate where their bodies need more time to adapt.

A strange mist envelopes them, as if it was a cloud, though they haven’t seen the fog from afar. Sanghyuk keeps driving, taking turns and avoiding fallen rocks expertly as if he knew the exact route— the headlights do nothing to penetrate the sudden darkness, and the black fog barely eases up when the narrow valley opens up and Sanghyuk steps on the breaks in the last moment.

There’s a gaping abyss before them, a cliff right in front of the jeep.

“Is this it?” Wonshik asks quietly as he gets out, but when he looks at the other side to address the question to Sanghyuk, he sees the boy rounding the car to get to Wonshik’s side.

It’s an enormous crater, now Wonshik sees. The mountains are the surface of earth that has been ripped and pushed upwards from the force of whatever created the crater, and the diameter of it is— it must be kilometers long, and it’s deep, so deep that Wonshik cannot see the bottom.

“Sanghyuk, is this the end of the world?” Wonshik asks loudly, almost in a demanding tone, as Sanghyuk steps out from behind the car and marches towards Wonshik with an unreadable expression on his face.

“See you on the other side,” Sanghyuk says, arms lifting into the air, and—

Wonshik tries to grab Sanghyuk’s wrists, but his palms connect with Wonshik’s chest, and the ground slips from beneath his feet—

Wonshik loses his balance, and the darkness engulfs him.

 

His mind surfaces with a gasp, filling his empty lungs with gulps of air as his body shoots up into sitting position, muscles moving on their own. His head is buzzing without a thought, still too confused to comprehend or remember, arms flailing in the air until they grasp the sides of the large bathtub sunk into the ground.

Liquid droplets run down his skin, cooling Wonshik off a little bit.

Wonshik opens his eyes, panting heavily, and looks around the strange room— ceiling black and uneven as if he was in a cave, but grating makes up the floor, and there are computers all around him, cables hanging from above, snaking on the ground and dipping into the large tub of water Wonshik is sitting in.

He hears a whooshing, hissing sound, and then words, _successful_ and _extraction_ and _come quickly,_ but he quickly forgets them, brain unable to register their meaning.

Boots on the grating, and Wonshik is frozen, trying to turn towards the source of the sound, but his whole body is frozen at the shock—

“Hi.”

And it’s Sanghyuk.

**Author's Note:**

> I uploaded this against my better judgment.


End file.
